


In From the Cold

by vanillafluffy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Friendship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Returns, Gen, I am backstory's bitch, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Throw canon in a blender and hit "puree"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9631934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: On an ordinary Tuesday morning, nine months after the events of CATWS,, JB Barnes walks into the Tower and asks to see Mr. Stark.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



The lobby of what was originally Stark Tower is warm, in contrast to the sleety February morning outside. The central receptionist glances up when the man enters, then her eyes widen as the facial recognition software running on the security cameras flashes an alert. 

"It's okay," says the voice of Maria Hill via her earbud. "Don't engage him. I'll be right there."

By now, the man has reached the counter. His hair is shaggy, he has at least three days of beard growth, and his clothes are well-worn. His smile, though, is broad and gleaming.

"I'd like to see Mr. Stark, please. I'm an old friend of his."

"This should be interesting," says a voice in the receptionist's ear. "Ms. Hill, bring him up."

"But Mr. Stark--"

"Bring him up. I'd like to meet him."

When Maria Hill appears in the lobby, she's brandishing a Colt Python. The visitor looks at her, eyebrows arching. "That's really not necessary," he says, voice low and calm. "I'll leave if you want me to."

"Mr. Stark will see you," she says through clenched teeth. "This way." Stark is out of his mind, letting this guy in. Regardless of what Steve Rogers may think, she's seen what intel exists on the Winter Soldier, aka James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, and she doesn't trust him in the slightest. She gestures with the gun for him to precede her into the elevator, and gives a voice command for an uninterrupted lift to Stark's penthouse.

In the nine months since the helicarriers went down, she's successfully made the transition to the private sector, but her years at SHIELD have imprinted her with indelible suspicion. Why, after all this time, has he surfaced? Here, of all places, and asking to see Stark as if any walk-in off the street can visit the billionaire? According to JARVIS, he has a knife in his left boot, but she knows he's capable of killing with his bare hands.

When they enter the great room of the penthouse, Tony Stark is fiddling with one of his robots. He straightens up and turns to face them, and Barnes stops short. "You're not Howard Stark."

"I'm Tony Stark. Howard was my dad."

"Oh." It's a nearly silent exhalation. Barnes looks like he's been hit with a two-by-four. "I'm so sorry. I thought--I didn't think--excuse me.'

He turns as if to go, but Maria is still there, gun trained on him. He slowly pivots to keep them both in view.

"I don't want any trouble, really," he says, mostly to Stark.

"Stand down, Ms. Hill," Stark says, but damned if she will. He can be as quiet and soft-spoken as he wants, but this is the man who damn near killed Nick Fury, did a number on Steve Rogers, and tore a wide swath of destruction through the troops trying to prevent the helicarriers' launch.

Before she even sees him move, he's plucked the gun from her. The round in the chamber is ejected--he catches it in mid-air--the clip slides out, and he lofts it in a smooth arc that rattles into the wastebasket near Stark, and places the pistol on one of the side tables.

"Generally, when your boss gives you an order, it's a good idea to comply," he says to her. "He's the one who signs your paychecks."

"My job is to keep him alive so he can keep signing them," she retorts.

Tony Stark is applauding. "Nice moves. Good throw. JARVIS, how far was that?"

"Twelve feet, four point six-five inches, sir."

"Pretty good." Stark ambles forward and extends his hand to the visitor. "Tony Stark."

"JB."

"Good to meet you, JB. Can I get you anything? A drink, a snack? Lunch! It's lunchtime, join me for lunch and you can tell me about my dad when he was what, half my age." Stark orders two steaks with the works, then, when Maria refuses to leave, a steak salad for her. 

Tony makes small talk while they're waiting for their food to arrive, and JB politely answers his questions. Yes, the city certainly has changed since he was a kid. He remembers watching the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building going up, what a thrill that was. And Radio City, back in the day, that was really something. He's gazing at the panoramic view out of the penthouse windows, almost gawking like a tourist.

When the platters of steak, potatoes and sauteed mushrooms and onions arrive, JB holds back. He finally picks up the steak knife in his right hand, and wraps his metal fingers around a fork, which promptly falls to the carpet. He tries to pick it up, but his fingers flick it out of reach. "I'm sorry--"

"You're having trouble with your arm?" Tony indicates at the shiny prosthetic, and JB nods, shamefaced. "I can help you with that."

"I was going to ask Howard...." he mumbles. His expression is hidden behind a curtain of hair, but his voice is apologetic.

"I can help," Tony repeats. "Let's see..." He's got the panel on the upper arm opened up without having to ask how, and 'hmm's thoughtfully. "It looks like one of these plates is slightly jammed under the one next to it, just above the elbow. That's interfering with the sensor bundle--Dum-E, give me a pair of needle-nose pliers and the number six hex wrench."

During this procedure, Maria notices that JB isn't even pretending to listen to Stark's banter. He's staring out toward the yellow haze that's Jersey, glassy-eyed, taking short, shallow breaths. It isn't until the plates have dove-tailed back into place that he finally takes a deep inhalation, and his blue eyes come back into focus.

"So, what happened there?" Tony asks, sliding back into his chair.

"It's been kind of a rough year." JB manages to smile. "I haven't had any maintenance in months and months, and then, a couple weeks ago, I got hit with a folding chair."

"A folding chair? What were you doing, trying out for the WWF?"

JB shakes his head. "I was working as a bouncer." Tony gapes at him. "It's honest work." JB is defensive. "I've got to do what I can, I don't exactly have references."

"Oh man, that's like trying to use a Lamborghini as a taxi cab. It just wasn't made for that. We've got to find something better for you to do. God, these steaks are cold. Don't worry, we'll get fresh ones. JARVIS, get us some new steaks."

JB looks horrified. "That's enough beef to feed a family of six for a week!" he blurts. "You can't just throw it out!" It sounds so much like something Steve would say that Maria feels a pang of something she can't identify.

"JARVIS, new steaks and a large doggy bag for my pal JB. I don't like reheated food," he explains. "Or coffee. It has to be fresh."

Maria looks up from her salad, which is perfectly adequate, even after the delay. "It's true," she says dryly. "The rich really are different from you and me."

"I'll say." JB still wears a faintly scandalized expression. "He wouldn't have lasted five minutes at our dinner table growing up."

"Why's that?" Start asks, and Maria is curious, too.

"Four of us kids and our folks...my mom's specialty was called 'Take it or leave it'...basically whatever she could find to put in the soup pot--leftovers, potatoes, whatever I could scrounge from the places I worked--we couldn't afford to be fussy."

"Where you worked?" Maria asks at the same time Stark asks, "Didn't your father work?"

"My dad was the fix-it guy for our building and a few others in the neighborhood that were owned by the same man. It got us a place to live and a little cash, but he took a lot of side jobs to get by on, he was always busy. Especially after Becca got sick. She had polio when she was...about six?" It's the first uncertainty he's shown about his memory. "There were lots of doctor bills."

"When and where were you working?" Maria really wants to know.

"I started doing kitchen jobs when I was about ten. Washing dishes, cleaning up, stuff like that, until I showed 'em I could do prep work."

"Ten years old?" Maria is aghast. "That's why there are child labor laws now!"

"Damn stupid laws, if you ask me." His brows are knotted. "I don't know if I could have supported myself like that, but I usually got a free meal out of it, maybe a buck or two if I did a really good job, and most of the cooks were good about giving me stuff that wasn't up to their standards. Potatoes that were sprouting, squishy tomatoes, Monday's 'special of the day' leftovers on Tuesday--that was after they rehashed what didn't sell over the weekend--it helped keep the little ones fed. Honest work."

That's the second time he's said that, she notes. It's the same kind of Depression-era mentality Steve has--she happens to know Captain America darns holes in his socks--use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without...and finding honest work was like finding a winning lottery ticket, or so she's heard..

"I'm sure we can find something for you to do around here, JB." The replacement steaks have arrived, and the 'bot serving them has brought a large clam-shell and a thermal pouch for the remains of the earlier ones. "We've got a coffee shop, a cafeteria and a sit-down restaurant on the premises, plus my personal culinary team. I'm sure we can put your skills to good use."

"Thank you, sir, but--"

"Uh-uh. I'm Tony, not 'sir'. You want honest work, you've got it. Ms. Hill, after lunch, get JB settled into one of the guest apartments. JB, eat your steak, or I'm going to start to think it's a cunning plot to mooch leftovers."

JB digs into his meal, while Maria sits with a piece of Romaine speared on her fork. 

"Is there a problem?" Stark asks her, knowing full well, damn him, what the problem is.

"No, sir," she says, and he doesn't correct her for it. Here. Hydra's human weapon is going to be right here in the Tower, a giant walking, talking security threat, and his #1 potential target is welcoming him with open arms. Swell.

"Hey," Tony says to his new friend around a mouthful of baked potato. "Remind me to show you _Roadhouse_. It's a movie about your former profession. You'll love it."

...

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the beginning of my headcanon shipping Bucky/Maria. I've written about the later stages of this relationship, but this is where it all starts.


End file.
